


Of Top Hats and Needles

by faikitty



Category: Karneval
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:17:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 11,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikitty/pseuds/faikitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of drabbles involving Hirato and Akari. Themes vary, everything from the trio watching a horror movie to Akari giving Hirato a striptease.</p>
<p>If you have a request, feel free to send me a PM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Breaks happen very rarely for Hirato and Akari. Hirato has an entire ship to oversee, and Akari has patients rushing in and out of the hospital wing day and night. Recently, though, Hirato has taken to having movie nights once a week.

“It’s a good chance for everyone to relax,” Hirato explained when he first brought up the plan to Akari. “I have to keep up morale somehow among the crew members. The sheep will keep an eye on the ship while we watch the movie. I’ll be in constant communication with them the whole time,” he added at Akari’s skeptical stare.

Akari attempted to open his mouth to protest, but by the time he managed to begin to speak, Hirato was already heading back down the hallway.

And that very night, the newest tradition to greet Circus’s 2nd Ship was born.

Nai enjoys it the most, as expected. He sits between Gareki and Yogi, legs curled under him in his chair and hands on his lap. His face spells out every emotion going through his head. When the movie is sad, he cries freely; when it’s happy, he laughs. Yogi often does the same, occasionally getting more into the movie than Nai. Gareki ignores the two of them, watching the movies quietly. Tsukumo, sitting beside him, notices his eyes to be a bit overly bright during some of the tragic parts of the films however.

Hirato and Akari always sit together, but they never sit too close; after all, they are comrades. It’s perfectly normal for them to enjoy a movie side by side, even if the look on Akari’s face implies irritation rather than enjoyment. Akari’s arms are crossed over his chest, and Hirato’s hands rest in his lap. Their thighs touch, and occasionally their fingertips will gently brush together. But that’s all they can afford in such a public setting, since even sitting in the back row it would be conspicuous to be any closer. The flashes of the screen lights their faces. Hirato puts his arm on the back of Akari’s chair and leans over. “You’ve been quite patient,” he whispers, and his breath tickles Akari’s ear. “I’ll have to thank you later.”

Akari’s ears burn then he smirks, not willing to be outdone. “Oh really?” he breathes back. “Maybe we should schedule these more often.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not a date.

 _It’s not damn a date_ , Akari keeps telling himself.  _Not with him_.

It’s merely their job. Going out and gathering people to go see Circus’s performance is a necessary part of their life. At times, this entails going out to dinner together, wearing nice suits and playing nice with one another. It is their job, and nothing more.

But still, he can’t deny it. To an onlooker, it’s a date. Possibly even to  _Hirato_ , it’s a date. The captain continues gazing at Akari, chin resting on his hand, simply because he knows it will frustrate the doctor. But even though Akari is well aware of his intentions, he  _is_  growing more and more irritated. The longer Hirato stares, the more Akari is forced to meet his eyes for lack of anywhere else to look, though looking elsewhere is not much help either. In an effort to look away, the blond ends up noticing how trim Hirato looks in his suit, how long his fingers are, and Akari finds himself imagining how those fingers would feel running through his hair, over his chest, and elsewhere.

Not a good tactic.

It’s a relief to him when the food finally arrives, forcing Hirato to break his stare in order to eat. It affords Akari a few moments of bliss, and the dinner is eaten far too quickly for his liking. But at least with the food eaten, they have no further reason to stay. Two handsome men dining together in the town’s most popular restaurant is more than enough to spark the intrigue of many people to draw them to Circus.

But as he lies down to sleep that night, Akari finds himself wishing it had been a date.


	3. Chapter 3

Akari has a very pretty face.

Hirato has always been aware of this. He looks prettiest, Hirato thinks, when he’s absorbed in his work. Something in the way a person’s face glows when he’s proud of a job well done or focused on a passion is amazing. For this reason, Hirato loves to watch Akari work, doing so under the guise of common routine evaluations. Akari is gruff and demanding while working, but his eyes are alight; he can truly be said to be someone who loves his job. Surrounded by stethoscopes and needles, the doctor seems at home.

But Hirato prefers above all to be there when Akari gets out of a surgery. Akari is a very, very talented doctor. The whole time he has worked on the 2nd ship, he has never lost a patient, no matter how serious the surgery. When he leaves the surgery room after an especially long and difficult surgery, he is often so exhausted that he barely manages to rinse the sweat from his skin before collapsing. At these times, Hirato is the one who finds him, sleeping lightly on the couch outside the captain’s office. Why he chooses such a place to give into his exhaustion, Hirato will never know. Perhaps Akari was simply too tired to make it to his room and gave up halfway.

Whatever the case may be, Hirato finds the doctor’s sleepy face to be the most beautiful. Akari’s light colored hair falls across his closed eyes as he sleeps, chest moving up and down rhythmically beneath a plain white shirt. His eyes open slightly and he wakes as Hirato picks him up. “No sense in sleeping there.” Akari is awake only enough to hear Hirato’s deep voice, not enough to think, and he lets his eyes close again as he falls back into oblivion. “You’re going to end up with bad joints if you do that too often. We can’t have our doctor getting arthritis.”

When he is placed in his bed, Akari curls up, a pillow in his hands. He doesn’t wake this time; he only sighs slightly and mumbles something incoherent in his sleep. Hirato leans down to tuck a strand of hair behind the other man’s ear, letting his gloved fingers trail lightly across his cheek. The captain’s fingertip touches Akari’s lips accidentally, and Hirato finds himself gazing at the curves of Akari’s mouth. After a brief moment he makes up his mind and kisses Akari. His nose touches the other man’s gently, and he feels Akari breathe in and make a sound of discontent. He pulls away immediately.

The doctor remains sleeping, and Hirato is thankful for this. He casts one last glance at the sleeping man before making his escape.

Akari remembers nothing in the morning but the vague feeling of a kiss, one he assumes to be from a forgotten dream.


	4. Chapter 4

Mistakes are made often, and some are worse than others.

Neither Akari nor Hirato is prone to mistakes. They are both far too proud to make errors often.

It’s a bit odd, then, that neither one notices he put on the wrong clothes this morning. Akari awakes first and scrambles to put on clothes with blurry eyes. He slips from Hirato’s room in the early hours of morning, carefully avoiding the sheep. He lies down on his own bed and is asleep again within seconds.

Hirato wakes later while it is still dark. He dresses and heads out onto the bridge of the ship. Coffee and breakfast is the main thing on his mind as he rubs his eyes and runs his hands through his messy black hair.

He happens to glance at the window and catch sight of his reflection, and he does a double take. “Damn,” he swears at his appearance, spinning on his heal and heading to Akari’s room. He doesn’t bother to knock but enters quietly, tapping Akari’s shoulder.

The doctor awakes with a start and casts Hirato a sleepy glare. “What the hell do you want?” he asks groggily. Hirato motions to his clothes, and Akari looks down at his garb.

“It’s unfortunate that we’re built so similarly,” Hirato says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Or perhaps you were in too much of a hurry this morning?”

“Perhaps  _you_  ought to start hanging your clothes up,” Akari shoots back as he takes off the shirt over his shoulders.

Hirato watches his muscles ripple with a smirk. “Something as intimate as last night doesn’t afford me much time to tidy up my room. Sorry. At least you left me my glasses,” he teases.

Akari’s only response is give Hirato a face full of shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

It doesn’t take a major injury for Hirato to find an excuse to show Akari affection. It’s  _fun_  to mess with Akari, and any sort of injury just gives Hirato a reason to show concern, fake or not. After all, the blonde doctor is just so easily agitated.

Which is why Hirato often finds himself in Akari’s office when there is nothing crucial for him to take care of. If Akari is not performing routine checkups or surgery, he is almost always in that office of his with so much paperwork that Hirato shudders to imagine the hours it must take to fill all of it out. Being a captain, the dark haired man is often able to pass down  _his_  paperwork to less important members of his ship. Akari has no such luck, and it entertains Hirato to be able to observe his doctor hard at work filling out forms and checking medical records.

It can be a  _very_  dangerous job at times. Akari flinches with a sharp intake of breath as a sheet of paper slices the tip of his pointer finger. He licks off the dot of blood that gathers so as to not get it on the rest of his work, but Hirato is unwilling to let such a  _horrible_  injury go untended. He takes ahold of Akari’s hand and plants a gentle kiss over the small nick, letting his tongue lightly brush against the skin.

“Stop that at once,” Akari demands, but when Hirato just lifts an eyebrow, he is forced to merely grit his teeth and thanks his lucky stars that it was his  _left_  hand which was cut so he can continue his work while Hirato continues… whatever the hell this is. By the way Hirato grips his wrist so tightly, the doctor knows he couldn’t pull his hand away if he tried.

But Akari grows more and more flustered by the minute despite his attempts to ignore the other man, and though it doesn’t show in his face, it  _does_  show in the impatient tapping of his foot and the narrowing of his eyes. Hirato’s tongue is frustratingly sensual against his skin, and it trails along the length of his finger when a small rivulet of blood drips down across the lines in his skin. When Hirato takes his entire finger in his mouth and  _sucks_ , it’s the final straw for Akari. He pulls his hand back forcefully and pushes his desk away from his chair. “I’m going to take my break now,” he says stiffly, standing and exiting so hastily that his lab coat flows out behind him.

Yet he isn’t quick enough, and Hirato finds immense humor in the way the tips of the doctor’s ears burn red even as he flees.


	6. Chapter 6

Antiseptics  _burn_ , especially the ones Akari uses.

“Stop fidgeting,” Akari orders, and Hirato gazes up at the man leaning over him.

“I’m not moving at all,” he says amiably, but his eyebrows knit together as the liquid burns the wounds on his skin. “I believe you could stand to be a little gentler though.”

“If I were to be gentler, this would take longer.” Akari’s eyes drift across the small cuts covering Hirato’s torso and land on the large gash in his right arm. A tightly wrapped tourniquet keeps it from bleeding freely, but the dark red that soaks Hirato’s shirt, currently lying on the floor, makes Akari more than a tad concerned. But upon examining the injury, he finds his worries to be unfounded. Although it  _had_  bled a lot, it wasn’t something Hirato could have died from. “You were lucky you didn’t cut through anything important. Your radial and ulnar arteries are intact. If they had been severed you would be in much worse shape.”

“You make it sound as if I did this to myself, doctor,” Hirato teases, and Akari presses against his wounds with a bit more force than necessary.

“You might as well have,” Akari mutters. Rising and taking a needle from a nearby unlocked cart, he flicks it a few times before stabbing it into Hirato’s arm without warning. Hirato’s grimace of pain is, admittedly, nice to see, but Akari knows soon his arm will be numb enough from the medicine he just injected to be cleaned and stitched up.

The moment his arm is stitched back together and tourniquet removed Hirato moves as if to stand, and Akari pushes against his chest until he is once again lying down. “ _You_  are not going anywhere. I skipped on taking your vitals because you seemed to be bleeding to death. But now I’m going to take them and make sure you have no less visible injuries.”

“Yes sir,” Hirato says wryly, and he doesn’t fight it as the cold stethoscope touches his bare chest then moves down to his lungs. He gives Akari his hand when told to do so without arguing, and even though Akari’s expression remains unreadable, his mind races with observations and theories.  _Cyanotic nail beds… Most likely his mucous membranes will be blue too, but I refuse to go near his mouth and let him make a snarky comment… Where the hell is the pulse oximeter? No matter, he’s obviously in shock by how he’s acting and the pallor of his skin, leaving alone the oxygen. He’ll need manual oxygen if he isn’t getting enough though… But what about his brain? Concussion is more than possible; it’s likely_.

The captain winces as his head is pulled back roughly by his hair and a small, bright light shines into his eyes. “Your pupils are different sizes,” Akari notes, releasing the other man and jotting down a few notes. “How well can you see? Any blurring?”

“No, I can still see your pretty little face just fine,” Hirato replies with a smile. He intertwines his fingers and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin on his crossed hands.

“The way your eyes are late to move when I move, even though you’re watching me, suggests otherwise.” Akari sets the pad down on the table and grabs the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. “I don’t have to tell you to hold still, do I?”

“Of course not. Would you please get me something to drink after this?” Hirato asks as he watches the cuff inflate around his bicep. “Water would be lovely.”

Akari doesn’t answer until he removes the stethoscope from his ears. “No. You’re apt to throw up if I do, and I refuse to have you aspirate on me. You’re in shock,  _and_  you have a concussion.” He turns his back on Hirato and returns to his desk for a moment. “I’m ordering an MRI. I need to see inside your sku—“

A thud from behind him makes him stop, and he spins around to see Hirato lying awkwardly on the floor, eyes closed and face even paler than before.

Akari doesn’t hesitate for even a second. His knees are on the ground and his hands on Hirato’s still body, two fingers pressed into the groove of his neck and his ear centimeters away from the other man’s open mouth. His mind races as he feels for the pulse and watches for any movement of Hirato’s chest.  _It could be that the shock made him fall unconscious at last or lack of oxygen since he doesn’t appear to be breathing but what if it’s head trauma his concussion could have been bad what if it’s a major cerebral hemorrhage or it could be something else entirely_ —

His pulse is weak and too quick but still there. His breathing, however, is not. Akari, reacting just as quickly as before, tilts back Hirato’s head, takes a breath, and starts to press his lips to the unconscious man’s. He doesn’t expect it when Hirato’s lips press back, and he jerks away in surprise and uncertainty as to whether or not that was simply a reflex. But when Hirato begins laughing, it’s apparent it was a trick.

“Next time you pull such a stunt, I’m going to leave you to die in a pool of your own blood and vomit,” Akari threatens, but Hirato just chuckles.

“I know you would never do that, A-ka-ri-chan,” Hirato enunciates with a lilt to his voice. He stands, wobbling a bit on his feet, and sits back on the table, breathing heavily.

Akari crosses his arms, irritated and unwilling to agree that no, he would never do that. “Even though you faked falling unconscious, you still have a concussion, and  _I’m_  still ordering that MRI.”

Hirato’s entire being seems to droop, and Akari’s smirk is victorious. After all,  _no one_  enjoys the whirring tunnel of the MRI. But, taking pity on the man ( _only_  because he is in shock and that makes him have true emotions like a normal person, Akari reasons), Akari leans forward and presses their lips together again, in a kiss this time. “I have to be sure you aren’t going to die of internal bleeding. I wouldn’t be too happy about that,” he breathes, pulling back only slightly, and he can feel Hirato’s grin as the captain kisses him once again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi-crack.

The doctor of the 2nd Ship is  _not_  a fan of scary movies. He can’t imagine why anyone would find them enjoyable. They aren’t actually frightening; they rely only on tension and surprise to shock their viewers. Even worse are slasher films.  _Those_  are an insult to both cinema and the human body, and Akari has seen more than enough traumatic injuries for fake gore not to faze him at all.

He would never watch a movie like this on his own, not for fear of it scaring him but because such films are just distasteful. Hell, he would never watch them period if not for a certain pair of Circus captain coercing him into watching with them under a mixture of a blackmail and flirtation. Spending his night sitting on a couch between Tsukitachi and Hirato is far from his idea of a good time.

And Akari is  _not_ afraid. So why do the scenes playing on the screen before him make him so uncomfortable then? Why does he cringe at the screams of the victims? Why does his body grow so tense with anticipation as the music slows and darkness sets in?

He can recall reading somewhere that those most susceptible to horror are the ones who don’t believe, but he refuses to allow himself to be in that category.

“Are you frightened, doctor?” Hirato whispers into his ear. His breath is warm as it rustles the other man’s hair, but Akari shivers nonetheless. “Your fingers are trembling.”

“Nonsense,” Akari scoffs, his voice and expression betraying nothing. “Why would I be afraid of something like this? Such a movie is nothing but a tiring waste of time.” But he doesn’t put up a fight when Hirato’s hand finds its way around his own, and the pallor of his face is visible even in the dim light of the television.

Akari starts and leans into Hirato as Tsukitachi stretches his long limbs and stands. The red haired man had been so quiet for once that Akari had nearly forgotten he was there. “Bathroom,” he mumbles with a yawn. He wanders out of the room, and the doctor wonders how he could possibly fall asleep during a movie, especially one  _he_  was so adamant on watching.

His brief moment of wondering is ended by a loud slam from the television, and Akari jumps again, unaware that he’s still resting against Hirato until he feels the other man’s body shake as he laughs. “Not scared? Are you sure?” Hirato asks with a smirk, and he detangles his fingers from Akari to reach out and touch his hair.

Akari slides away to the other end of the sofa where Tsukitachi had originally sat. “I told you before, I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth. Hirato raises his hands in defense and turns to watch the movie, his face amused and not frightened in the slightest.

The doctor is used to seeing people’s knuckles turn white as they grip the sides of the waiting room chairs in fear, his profession being one that makes many people nervous. What he’s not used to seeing is his own knuckles turn that color, his nails digging into the soft cushion of the armrest. When daytime comes in the movie, his whole being relaxes and sinks into the couch, and night in the film comes once again much, much too soon. His body goes still and rigid as the scene playing out before him fills him with anticipation—not  _fear_ , it isn’t fear,  _definitely not fear_.

The light is too small. The area beyond is too large. Akari’s eyes are drawn to the back of the room in the film, where he’s positive something will appear, since even in horror films, the doctor is calculating and quick to figure out the situation. The music stops; the only sound is the heavy and frightened breathing of the man in the movie. Even Akari’s lungs seem to have stopped working, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes

Long, sinewy fingers grab Akari’s shoulders. A low voice, akin to metal scraping metal, growls his name in his ear, and the doctor’s eyes widen.

The sound that escapes Akari is decidedly unmanly  _and_  frightened, an odd cross between a yelp and a strangled scream. The motion he makes is even less manly and more terrified. He crosses the distance between him and Hirato within milliseconds, seeming to shrink into a ball and pressing up against the other man with his knees drawn up to his chest and his eye squeezed tightly shut. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been braced to fight. However, these were  _far_  from ordinary.

Hirato wraps his arms around the doctor and pulls him even closer, placing a soft, reassuring kiss on his head before resting his chin on his shoulder. “While I don’t mind you using me a security blanket…” Hirato trails off as Akari stiffens against him, and it’s almost too much fun to ruin the game so soon. “I think you should know that that wasn’t a ghost or a demon.”

When Akari peels his eyes open once more, he sees Tsukitachi seated next to him, calmly drinking a soda with a hand covered by a glove belonging to one of Circus’s demon costumes. Setting down the drink, Tsukitachi clicks the claws of the glove together and grins. “Hello, Akari-chan,” Tsukitachi growls in the same voice as before, and Akari swears he can see red tinged around the edge of his vision.

Showing any kind of true anger would be providing the captains with too much satisfaction, so Akari straightens up and resigns himself to watching the remainder of the movie in peace while formulating revenge in his mind.

Still, he can’t  _quite_  bring himself to move the extra few inches back to his original position, and his shoulder still rests against Hirato’s until the film is over.


	8. Chapter 8

Akari is, frankly,  _adorable_  when he first wakes up, hair mussed from sleep and sex and attitude subdued. His bangs falling in front of his face make him look both younger and less professional, so it’s clear to Hirato why he usually keeps them pressed back. Add in sleepy eyes and an undone shirt collar and the doctor seems almost harmless. It’s all Hirato can do to hold himself back when the other man looks so compromised.

When Akari’s eyes open more and he fully awakes, he’s greeted immediately with a kiss. He accepts it for a few seconds then pushes Hirato away with an exhausted groan. He’s not one for talking in the morning, preferring to keep his peace for awhile after waking up so as to not say anything Hirato can use against him.

“Still tired?” Hirato teases, his fingers playing through Akari’s hair. The doctor sighs and pushes himself up off the mattress, and the captain takes the opportunity to admire his handiwork as Akari takes one quick glance at the clock and hurries toward the exit.

“You know, I rather like your hair like that,” Hirato calls with a smirk, and the slam of the door is Akari’s response.

* * *

 

He’s late. His first surgery of the day was scheduled for precisely 8 AM, and it’s 8:02 when Akari hurries into the operating room without bothering to do anything about his bedhead. There’s no point, really, when it’s hidden beneath the surgical cap anyway.

It’s no surprise when the surgery is done and the cap is off that the nurses start whispering amongst themselves. They often do so regardless of the state of Akari’s hair, and by this point he’s learned to pay them no mind. What they think about his appearance is no concern of his, so they’re free to gossip as they wish.

Besides, today Akari is busy. A number of Circus officers returned from a mission last night, all beaten and bloody, and the doctor hardly has a chance to catch his breath between surgeries and check ups.

His messy hair is entirely, blissfully, forgotten until Hirato tracks down Akari while the blonde prepares to take his lunch break. Akari isn’t exactly happy to see him; when Hirato meets up with the doctor during the day, it’s almost always to taunt him. “Did you need something?” he asks before Hirato has a chance to speak.

“Yes,” Hirato replies amiably. He pushes back Akari’s bangs, and the doctor hits his hand away with a confused glare.

“Would you stop? You’re annoying. I can fix my hair myself.”

“That would be for the best.” Hirato’s voice drops, and he leans in closer. “You may be blind to the looks people are giving you, but I, for one, am not. You don’t look like a doctor at all. I’ve heard more than just one or two of your subordinates say you look like a two-cent whore with your hair so messed up like this. I don’t like having to listen to people make fun of you behind your back, so you ought to fix yourself up.”

Akari finds himself slightly stung by the words, and he stands in offended silence as Hirato turns and walks away with a wave over his shoulder. The blonde self-consciously touches a strand of hair hanging over his eye and tucks it behind his ear. “’I like your hair like that,’ he says,” Akari mutters under his breath, his appetite all but gone.

When he returns to his office, he can overhear a group of nurses not far from his closed door. The logical side of him tells him to ignore their voices, to tuck back his bangs and fill out his paperwork, but the rest of him is begging for him to listen. Giving in, he presses his ear against the door, realizing with an internal sigh that this is  _far_  from professional behavior.

“—should have his hair like that more often. He looks so much nicer that way, more like a kindly psychology than a cold-hearted surgeon.”

“I nearly fainted when he came in this morning!”

“I don’t like to get involved with relationships in my work, but I would make an exception for him. Even though his personality isn’t great, he’s just so sexy.”

Realization crosses Akari’s face, and he can’t help but smirk as he sits back down at his desk and takes up a pen and paper.

* * *

 

_Hirato;_

_Next time you get jealous and over-protective, you might want to make sure_ I  _can’t hear what other people are saying about me. I think today’s look was very well-received, based on the conversations I listened to. You aren’t the only one who likes my hair like this. Maybe I should keep it this way?_

_P.S. You aren’t as clever as you think you are._

-           _Akari_

Hirato pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses lifted up slightly, and tosses the letter in the trash. “I don’t believe I should be faulted for wanting to protect him from imminent sexual harassment,” he murmurs to Tsukitachi.

The red haired captain, who had been leaning over Hirato’s shoulder to read the contents of the letter, merely laughs. “Nice try. I think Akari won this round,” he says, tipping his hat respectfully to the thought of the doctor.

Sometimes Akari comes out on top.


	9. Chapter 9

“Follow my lead.”

Hirato’s voice is quiet as he whispers close to Akari’s ear, making it burn with the closeness of his lips, and the doctor finds himself wishing he could distance himself further from the other man. But etiquette won’t allow it, and neither will Hirato’s hand resting firmly on his waist and holding him close. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to go your whole life without learning to dance properly,” Hirato comments, gazing into Akari’s eyes until the blonde is forced to look away. “You’ve attended balls before, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. I can waltz, if I must.” Akari’s voice is saturated with frustration. “But that is all. I don’t dance, and nobody has ever expected me to, aside from  _you_.” It’s true; the man is a doctor. People don’t expect surgeons to be marvelous dancers, so he’s never  _had_  to learn how to dance. Hirato, for reasons unknown, took it upon himself to teach Akari when he found out, in light of an upcoming ball for members of Circus. Unsurprisingly, the tango is his dance of choice, and it’s a living hell for Akari.

Hirato simply smiles a charming smile and tightens his fingers on Akari’s hand as the recorded music skips and begins again. The doctor watches his feet when they start to move, trying his best to keep up with the tempo of the music and the quick pace of Hirato’s steps. In spite of his attempts, he still manages to trip over his own feet mere seconds into the dance. Hirato leans down and helps him up with an amused expression on his face, and Akari wants nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his lips.

A few tries later, Akari finally manages to get the steps down by way of trying to keep Hirato from stepping on his toes. But just when he begins to feel a bit of confidence in his movements, Hirato stops and releases his waist, moving Akari’s hand from his shoulder to  _his_  waist instead. “If you can follow my steps, then you can lead. Try it.” Akari hesitates, and Hirato leans in to add, “You won’t be dancing with me at the ball. You ought to know how to lead as well.”

Akari can’t deny the truth to the statement, so with a resigned “fine” he clasps Hirato’s waist and holds onto his hand. He stares down at his shoes as if debating on how to make his feet move, and Hirato has to start to lift his own foot up before Akari figures out what it is he’s supposed to do. They move slowly at first but gradually pick up speed, and Akari even manages to raise his eyes from the floor for a time.

He’s certain Hirato regrets his decision to allow Akari to lead when the captain ends up tumbling to the floor, Akari having accidentally stepped on his toes while Hirato was attempting to step back. He looks none too pleased as he stands up and smooths his shirt, but Akari returns his gaze evenly, his lips twitching as he fights back a smirk. Hirato turns away with a vaguely saddened sigh and approaches the music player, and at first, Akari thinks he’s going to turn it off. But the tape resets, and Hirato turns up the volume before returning to the doctor’s side.

“If you are going to falter like this, I’ll have to show you how this dance is  _supposed_  to go,” Hirato says, somehow able to make the sentence sound like a threat. His hand returns to Akari’s side, and he grasps the blonde’s hand tightly. Akari automatically moves his free hand to Hirato’s shoulder.

Then the room is spinning and Akari is frantically trying to keep up with the captain’s steps and finding it impossible. Hirato is a fighter; his body is trained to move fluidly and quickly with no hesitation at all. Akari is a doctor; he’s used to using his hands far more than his feet. He isn’t weak and he isn’t slow, but he’s not meant to be a dancer.

_To hell with it_ , he decides when Hirato shows no sign of slowing his movements. He lets himself be pressed against the other man’s body, his head coming to rest just above Hirato’s shoulder, and he gives in to the music, allowing himself to float around on the notes. He can feel Hirato’s muscles flex beneath him as he moves, and he can feel the captain’s warm breath on his cheek. The tango is a dance made for lovers, and Akari, his face flushed with what he blames to be heat, can understand why.

Akari is almost disappointed when the music slows and stops at last, and Hirato’s steps calm with it. The captain doesn’t release him immediately. “I believe you’re enjoying yourself, doctor,” he breathes, and Akari pushes away to regard Hirato with a mixture of irritation and thinly concealed longing.

“Twirling around with you like some princess isn’t enjoyable,” Akari retorts. But he allows himself to be pulled into a long kiss despite his complaints.


	10. Chapter 10

Drunken Akari is truly a sight to see.

He isn’t particularly excitable when drunk, aside from an inclination to blush easily. He’s quiet as well, preferring to enjoy his alcohol in quiet. Akari is not by any means an  _affectionate_  drunk. He isn’t a fan of people invading his personal space when he’s sober, and this never seems to change no matter how much alcohol he’s had to drink. His eyes may become slightly glassier and more lustful, but he would never throw himself at someone. He isn’t a flirt; he doesn’t even know how, nor does he find it worth his time. Still, if someone, possibly someone like the dark haired captain, were to approach him, he wouldn’t push him away.

It’s an entirely different captain who decides to pester him that night however.

Tsukitachi is cunning, for all that he acts like he’s clueless to his surroundings. He has a plan in mind when he sidles up alongside Akari and takes a seat at the bar, and that plan doesn’t involve  _him_  ending up in the doctor’s bed.

“So, Akari-chan, see anyone here you like?” Tsukitachi asks with a wink. His arm rests against Akari’s, and although the doctor glances down at it, he doesn’t move his arm away.

“I’m not here to flirt with women,” the doctor replies stiffly, and he takes another swig of his drink.

Tsukitachi nods with narrowed eyes. “Oh? Would you rather flirt with men?” he teases, and Akari chokes on his drink and can’t seem to recover enough to reply. “My apologies,” the captain says, swiveling a bit in his seat so he can see both Akari and Hirato, who remains seated a few feet away, chatting with a few slightly terrified-looking members of his crew. “Oi! Hirato! Care to join us?” he calls. Hirato looks in his direction and his conversation partners seize the opportunity to make their getaway, leaving the captain with little choice but to join the other two men.

“Evening,” Hirato greets as he sits on the other side of Akari. The doctor mutters something into his glass and empties it in one long gulp, and Hirato lifts an eyebrow.

“Should I start ordering you shots, Akari-chan?” Tsukitachi teases, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder and leaning in closer. Hirato is surprised when Akari doesn’t jerk away like he usually does. “You seem to be enjoying your alcohol tonight.”

Akari takes a moment to process his words then nods. “By all means.” Tsukitachi does so, making eyes at the clearly uninterested waitress as she brings out the alcohol. When she leaves, he returns his gaze to Akari and slides him the drink. It disappears into the doctor’s mouth the moment it appears in front of him, and Tsukitachi lets out a low whistle.

Hirato calmly takes another sip of his wine, apparently nonplussed. But Tsukitachi, for once the least drunk of the three, notices how his fingers are tighter than necessary on the glass and his movements are less fluid.  _Too easy_.

“Are you positive there’s no one here you want to sleep with?” Tsukitachi asks again, and Akari shakes his head quickly. The red-haired captain sets a hand on Akari’s thigh. The doctor doesn’t react to the touch; Hirato, however does, standing abruptly. Tsukitachi gazes placidly up at him. “What about you?” he inquires of the other captain.

Hirato clears his throat and fixes Tsukitachi with a pleasant smile. “Perhaps I do.” He takes a few steps until he’s standing directly beside the other man and lowers his voice. “If you don’t get your hand off him this minute, I will not hesitate to cut it off.”

Tsukitachi knows better than to argue with Hirato, and besides, his goal has been achieved. He raises his hands in feigned innocence and stands, looking down at the now crimson doctor. “If you’re going to make threats, I’ll take my leave. That cute brunette over there has had her eyes on me all night anyway,” Tsukitachi says, sauntering off to work his magic elsewhere.

Hirato sighs and pulls Akari up roughly by the arm while the blonde attempts to order yet another drink. “Drink any more and you’ll get alcohol poisoning,” the captain explains as Akari starts to argue. “Who do you expect to treat you if that happens,  _doctor_?”

“Fine,” Akari mumbles. Hirato tucks a stray strand of blonde hair behind his ear, and Akari’s skin burns at the touch.

“Let’s get you to bed then,” Hirato suggests, swinging an arm around the other man’s waist. Akari, despite being drunk, still has enough of his bearing to walk on his own, but he hasn’t the heart to remove Hirato’s arm. Instead, he takes advantage of the situation and lets his own arm wrap around Hirato’s shoulders and pretends he needs the support.

Sometimes, being drunk has its perks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Akari likes black tea and brown sugar from coral and dislikes smoked fish. I have no clue if he likes spicy food or not. But I think Hirato is better suited to liking it, and given the prompt I used, one of our men had to hate spicy stuff.

It isn’t a rare event for Hirato and Akari to dine together at lunch. If Hirato is at the Research Tower or Akari on Second Ship, the men are  _expected_  to eat together, to sit and make small talk as if either of them is actually interested in chatting about nothing at all. They are offered a private area to eat, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re stuck together. Most of the time, Hirato is the one to fill the admittedly uncomfortable silence with stories of his recent missions. They’re just repeated tales for Akari, who always learns of the captain’s escapades immediately from either Tsukitachi or Hirato himself. He doesn’t mind listening; after all, it keeps him from getting into an argument with Hirato, a fight being inevitable each time they meet. Truthfully, he doesn’t even listen half the time.

Akari simply has nothing to say. With how carefully Circus—and Hirato—watch him, Big Brother is always looking over his shoulder and recording his every move. Anything he has to say would be something Hirato already knows, and besides, when the doctor is more focused on eating rather than talking, it makes it a little less likely that Hirato will make some sort of taunt.

“-ri-san?”

Akari glances up from his meal, his fork poised halfway in his mouth. “What?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for zoning out so much. He stuffs the fork into his mouth hurriedly as Hirato smirks.

“I asked if you’d like to try a bite of my food. Weren’t you paying attention?” the dark haired man asks, nudging his plate closer to Akari.

The doctor hesitates a few seconds, gears in his brain quickly calculating the outcomes of refusal versus acceptance. The latter wins, so he reaches out his fork, scoops up what looks to be a kind of mild rice, and returns it to his mouth in one swift motion. The moment it hits his tongue he regrets his decision immensely. Hirato’s expression is both mildly horrified and incredibly amused as he watches Akari cough, face scarlet. To his credit, the doctor manages to swallow the rice before turning his wrath on Hirato.

“What the hell was that!? You know I don’t like spicy food!” Akari all but yells, reaching across the table to the glass of water by Hirato.

The captain slides the water away and crosses the short space between them to kiss Akari. His lips aren’t cool, having eaten the same food as Akari, but they’re soft and pleasantly warm, and his tongue is blissfully wet against the doctor’s lips. Akari isn’t sure how long they stay that way, Hirato with one hand on the table to brace himself and Akari with his fingers against the other man’s cheek, but he knows it was long enough for him to miss the feeling of Hirato’s lips when they’re gone.

Akari coughs once again, his face still flushed, supposedly from the food. “My mouth still burns,” he complains, and he snatches the glass of water before Hirato has a chance to make any more foolish moves.

“I  _am_  aware you dislike spicy food,” Hirato comments as he gazes placidly at the doctor, his usual smile perched on his face. “If you had been listening to me, you would have known I offered you a piece of my  _fruit_. I didn’t expect you to take the rice. But, of course, you were off in your own world.”

“I— You still could have stopped me,” Akari says irritably after the water is all gone, “instead of sitting there laughing at me.”

“Ah, but then you wouldn’t have learned your lesson, doctor,” Hirato replies, resting his hand in his palm and brushing a thumb along his lower lip.

Akari closes his eyes with a sigh; he can’t seem to throw insults at the other man when it  _was_ his own fault.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mamihlapinatapei (def.) - The wordless yet meaningful look shared by two people who desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to start.

Akari isn’t one to take risks. His calculating mind won’t allow it, and for that matter, neither will Circus. At times, he thinks it would be worth it, just once, just long enough to break through that wall between him and Hirato. If he were able to, he could  _finally_  run his fingers through Hirato’s dark hair, slip the glasses off his nose, feel Hirato’s lips pressed—

No. He won’t admit to those thoughts, not even to himself. To say that there’s something between the two of them aside from loathing… That would take strength he doesn’t possess. He doubts Hirato can even feel the tension when they’re together, so Akari contents himself with putting the thoughts at the back of his mind and pretending he isn’t mesmerized by Hirato’s every move when they’re together.

Akari will keep his mouth shut, indefinitely if he can. It’s that  _look_  that Hirato gives him, that god damn look. Eye contact shouldn’t be something that makes the doctor turn away like a bashful young school girl. But when Hirato looks at him like that, it makes his breath catch in his throat, and it drains him of all of his willpower to stay still and  _not_  kiss the other man.

So instead, he turns away.

* * *

 

When their eyes meet, Hirato can feel it too.

For him, feelings of love—or at the very least, affection—for anyone are foreign. He’s used to people falling for him. He is incredibly charming and handsome, after all, and he knows it. He’s capable of winning over nearly every woman’s and the occasional man’s heart, and he does so without a second thought. It’s fun; that’s all. He’s never blind to their intentions, as there are telltale signs of love. Always,  _especially_  with the young women, the scene plays out in the same way.

Hirato will put on a polite, gentlemanly face. During the duration of the courtship, if it can be called that, he will occasionally drop the mask enough to show a gentler side, usually still full of false emotions. The girl in question will be touched by the softer side, and she’ll see it as a gift given only to her. Now is when Hirato will start granting the woman careless touches, a brush of fingers here, a close whisper there. She’ll blush at the contact, sometimes fleeing in shyness, sometimes staying in boldness. Either way, it will take only a little while longer before she finds an excuse to call Hirato in to speak with him in private, wearing either an expression of determination or fearful apprehension.

After the confession, the game is done.

Hirato blames  _that_  on why he feels so different around Akari. The other man hardly exhibits any signs of falling in love with him, and he reacts in much less predictable ways than most other people. Yet there’s an undeniable spark between them, an electric current that only serves to confuse him. If the situation were a bit different, Hirato would approach Akari about it. He would play him like a puppet, like he does with all of the others, until finally cutting the strings that hold him up and keep them connected.

Why he doesn’t is a mystery. He’s had no qualms about it before, and surely Akari isn’t so different that Hirato can’t work any of his tricks on him.

He does try sometimes, fixing Akari with a stare that he knows can melt women on the spot. Glasses pushed down just a little, gentle eyes gazing over the rims, the smile on his face secretive. But when he exchanges this glance with Akari, he finds that  _he_  is the one who has a difficult time resisting the urge to say something akin to a confession. Those words are ones he refuses to  _ever_  let escape from his mouth.

So he satisfies himself with teasing instead. “Why are you so shy, Akari-san?”

It isn’t quite the same. But until one of them is able to make the first move, it’s good enough.


	13. Chapter 13

The three rhythmic knocks at his door are what wake him, but at this point, they hardly make him stir. Akari can’t be bothered to rise, not until the light starts to creep through his window and in comes the fear of a subordinate—or worse still, Hirato or Tsukitachi—finding the note that he  _knows_  is just outside his door.

Sliding on slippers and buttoning up a nightshirt, he cracks open the door and kneels down to grab the letter, lying there just as he knew it would be. It’s the same as all of the others, marked with a red wax seal with a diamond print, a seal he hasn’t seen anywhere but on these damned letters that appear night after night. By its side is, as always a single red rose. He shuts his door harder than necessary, turning, striding over to his nightstand, and opening the drawer to reveal ten other letters.

Akari rolls the rose between his fingers, flinching when a poorly situated thorn slices open his thumb. He sets it in the vase of water atop the nightstand where the other roses stand; he’s been trained for so long to maintain life that even cut roses need to be cared for.

The letter, however, is a different story, and he tears open the envelope without much thought to its contents. A drop of blood blurs a few words, but he already knows what it will say.

Sure enough, it reads:

_Today I watched as you drank tea. Please do not mistake me for a stalker; once my eyes landed on you, I was unable to pull them away. Under ordinary circumstances, I would like to go up and talk to you, to have your gaze on my face rather than on your book. But something in me was unable to bear to pull you away from your peace. Still, you were so very beautiful in your self-absorption, and the shade of the tea matched the color of your eyes, as lovely as always._

_Tomorrow will be the last._

_Tch_. Akari tosses the letter in the drawer, pausing only for a brief second to ponder exactly  _why_ he’s saving the notes in the first place. He doesn’t like the implications of that thought, so it gets pushed to the back of his mind for him to mess with some other time. He’s loathe to think of what tomorrow will bring, given the promise that it will be the final one.

A dozen roses and a dozen notes.

He supposes it’s romantic, but romance is far from his forte.

* * *

He’s successful in keeping away all thoughts of the love letters during his surgeries, far more focused on keeping his patients alive than any romantic endeavor. At this point, surgery is a sort of therapy for him, something to let him relax and focus only on the dire need of the person lying in front of him. Unfortunately, when all emergency procedures are finished for today and all that remains are minor tasks that are passed down to subordinates, he no longer has anything to distract him.

What is the point of such roundabout methods? If someone is interested in him, they ought to approach him outright. The worst that can happen is for him to say no, which will  _definitely_ happen if this mysterious admirer comes forth. Akari runs his fingers through his hair and squeezes his eyes shut, unsure if he’s more frustrated with himself or with his anonymous lover.

A knock on his door breaks his thoughts, and Hirato limps in a few seconds later. While it’s not really the sort of distraction Akari had in mind, this time he’ll take it.

Neither man speaks at first. Akari merely observes, noting the careful way Hirato stands with all but a little of his weight on his right leg. His left toes touch the ground but nothing more, his entire air defensive and not unlike a wounded animal.

“May I sit?” Hirato asks with enough irritation in his voice that most of Circus would flee if they heard it. But Akari just nods at the leather chair in front of him and continues to watch as Hirato gingerly picks his way over to the chair and slides into it with a deep sigh.

Akari kneels at Hirato’s feet, carefully lifting the other man’s injured leg and pressing around his bruised and swollen ankle. “I know I shouldn’t ask, but I  _am_  curious,” Akari comments as he works to find the exact location of the injury. “You don’t often come to me with injuries. As far as I know, there hasn’t been any sort of fight lately.”

“I—“ Hirato’s fingers dig into the arms of the chair as the doctor prods an especially tender spot. “I wasn’t in any sort of fight. This is a result of… my own carelessness. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking too clearly about the repercussions of walking around in the dark.”

Akari snorts and places his hands on Hirato’s foot. “Tell me when this hurts,” he orders, moving the captain’s foot in various directions. A quiet hiss from Hirato is, naturally, the only response when in pain, and Akari releases Hirato gently. “’Tell me’ doesn’t mean ‘hiss at me’ like some sort of cat. Why on earth were you wandering around in the dark to begin with?”

Hirato smirks. “Making my way back from a lover’s room, of course,” he explains with far too much sarcasm and false pride for Akari to believe a word.

The doctor raises his hands by his head. “Well, it’s not as if knowing the real reason for your nighttime expeditions will help me treat a sprain, nor do I really even  _want_  to know, I think.” Akari starts to turn, but Hirato grabs his hand.

“You’re hurt too,” he says, looking up at the other man with one eyebrow raised.

Akari pulls his hand away and rubs at the bandaid on his thumb. “Hardly. I was cut by a rose; a gift from a lover,” he says flatly, and he can’t help noticing how Hirato’s eyes narrow at that.

Now that’s something Akari would rather not think about. Instead, he heads to a shelf full of plastic boxes and rummages through one, eventually pulling out a black splint. He holds it out to Hirato. “Alternate ice and heat and wear this. Come back in if it gets worse or if you have any sort of numbness or tingling. I would give you crutches, but we both know you won’t use them even if I do.”

Hirato’s fond smile at those words makes Akari’s breath catch in his throat, a certain light in the captain’s eyes that makes Akari wonder if this is always how he looks at him. “You know me well,” he agrees softly, and the doctor tugs his gaze away at last. Hirato chuckles and takes the splint from the other man’s hands. “Thank you, my dear Akari-san.”

Akari returns to his original seat at his desk and starts shuffling through papers that have already been filed. “No ‘thank you’s; this is my job, after all.”

Hirato tilts in head and stands, making his way over the door and leaning against the frame. “Still. Thank you.” He turns to leave then glances back over his shoulder. “And I must apologize. I suppose that with my injury, I won’t be able to keep my promise and give you the last note tonight.” With that, he steps out and closes the door behind him.

Akari makes a noncommittal noise. Then the words reach him, and he looks up with a jolt just in time to see the door shut. “Wha—“

He shakes his head roughly and stays firmly seated. There must be some other explanation, some note Hirato was supposed to give Akari that the blonde just forgot about. Hirato is  _not_ the one responsible for the love letters outside his door. Preposterous.

But… he wouldn’t really mind if it  _was_  Hirato either.


	14. Chapter 14

Normally, once winter rolls around, Akari is perfectly content to stay inside and treat the plethora of idiots who always go outdoors and catch colds. Although his office can’t really be said to be cozy, it is  _warm_ , and that’s good enough for him.

He is  _not_ , however, content to stay aboard the 2nd Ship.

A trip or two outside of Research Tower is to be expected. Sometimes, people get trapped in the snow for extended periods of time, causing hypothermia, frostbite, and a million other dangerous things. So it isn’t rare for Akari to venture to the ships from time to time.

This time, Akari recalls bitterly, strong winter storms were forecast. He should have just stayed home, should have talked someone else into doing it.  _But I couldn’t very well have left those men here alone to die_ , he admits to himself a few moments later. Then again, he hadn’t expected to be  _stuck_  aboard the ship.

Somehow, he had managed to get himself stuck in Hirato’s room on top of it all.

The storm, still busy painting the outside world white, had been even stronger than expected. The small aircraft Akari had been transported on was in no way suited to fly in this sort of weather. Therefore, to his great frustration, the doctor had had no choice but to stay on 2ndShip for the night, and naturally, Hirato wasn’t about to let such an opportunity get away.

Suddenly, the power flickers, pulling Akari from his reverie. Seconds later, the lights go completely dark, and there is a moment of breathless stillness before the backup generators kick on. No light returns, and the sound of heat running through the vents seems to have ceased completely, but any threat of the ship completely shutting down is gone.

Hirato disappears in a concerned hurry, and Akari has to admire him for that. Annoying though he may be, he is, in the end, a very skilled captain who cares about his ship and crew.

Left alone in the darkness, Akari shifts to the other man’s bed. He isn’t afraid of the dark, not in the slightest, but there is still an amount of comfort to be gained from the familiarity of Hirato’s sheets. The doctor sits with knees pulled up to his chest and listens in silence to the howling of the wind outside. Gradually, he becomes aware of the chill filling the room, and he wishes, more than a little frustrated, that he had brought warmer clothes.

By the time Hirato returns, having apparently decided his ship to be out of danger, Akari’s eyes have grown adjusted to the dark, and he can see wisps of mist in the air as he exhales. Hirato approaches quietly, and Akari jumps inadvertently at the arms that wrap around his waist.

“It looks like we’ll be here awhile, eh, Akari-san?” Hirato comments, amusement in his voice as he lays his chin upon the doctor’s shoulder. He lifts his head again a few seconds later and tilts it slightly. “Your skin is freezing.”

“Your heaters have stopped working,” Akari mutters through chattering teeth, “and apparently your ship has virtually no insulation. You’ve been running around, so I’m not surprised you didn’t notice.”

Hirato frowns and rises suddenly, and Akari lets out a sigh of impatience as he is once again left alone in the cold and the dark.

This time, Hirato returns much more quickly than before, and his arms are full of blobs that Akari soon realizes are blankets. Akari takes one, wraps himself up in it, and nods his thanks at the other man—a moment too soon. The captain proceeds to toss the blankets onto the foot of the bed and pull the doctor into his arms instead, planting a light kiss on the blonde’s furrowed brows.

“Is this necessary?” Akari questions, deciding the warmth of the blanket to be more important than struggling against the other man.

Hirato smiles, a bit eerie in the darkness, and tugs part of the blanket over him as well. He reaches down and grabs a few more to cover them both in before nodding. “Of course. Two bodies are warmer than one. We wouldn’t want our precious physician to get hypothermia, now would we?”

“It’s hardly going to get  _that_  cold,” Akari scoffs, but he burrows into the blankets nonetheless. He presses his cheek against Hirato’s chest, relishing the heat his skin gives and listening to his heart beat steadily over the sound of the wind outside. Hirato’s arms fold over the small of his back and pull him up so he can be kissed, his lips warming with the touch of another’s. There’s nothing passionate in the kiss, not this time. It is simply comforting and warm, making the night less dark and the weather less terrible. Akari rests his head against the crook of the other man’s neck and closes his eyes. He feels Hirato let out a content sigh and settle in more comfortably around him.

Perhaps being trapped on the 2nd Ship isn’t so bad after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request for angel/demon AU.

Such a bond between angel and demon is forbidden, both by heaven and by hell. Even Lucifer was once an angel, as beautiful and powerful as those who reside at God’s side now. It’s to be expected that the two sides cannot mix.

Not that this is enough to stop Hirato.

He makes the ascent from hell without trouble, steps light as his claws grip the earth. The mortal world is a bit more difficult to deal with, as he has to hide any sight of his demonic traits with a glamour, making him look more like a human, skin growing paler and wings and horns disappearing altogether whenever someone looks at him. He settles down in a cafe, ordering a coffee and picking up a newspaper he only pretends to read. He would prefer not to stay in this realm, truthfully, but it’s the only place they can meet without interference.

As if on cue, the door chimes and Akari walks in, lithe and stunning even with a glamour hiding his feathered wings. He causes a few people to stare as he heads toward Hirato’s table. Angels are even beautiful when they pretend to be human, and in the demon’s eyes, this angel is far more beautiful than most.

Hirato rises and pulls out the seat for Akari, who sits without complaint as he watches the demon impassively. “It’s truly fate that brought us together today,” Hirato teases as he returns to his seat and sips on his coffee. He glances at the angel and takes his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

Akari pulls his hand away. “You shouldn’t touch me. It’s hardly right,” he says shortly, and Hirato laughs at the remark.

"And since when have you or I followed their rules?" he asks with a smirk, clasping Akari’s hand once more. "You certainly don’t seem to mind my touch when the sun goes down."

Akari sighs in defeat, cheeks slightly flushed, and Hirato’s grin widens. He wouldn’t trade that face for the world.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request for a strip tease.
> 
> If you're curious, Akari is stripping to "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack.

If his coworkers ever found out, they would likely drop dead on the spot, but Akari is a  _master_  at giving strip teases.

Hirato doesn’t feel much inclined to tell anyone that little secret. He is more than okay with keeping it between the two of them, borderline covetous of his lover’s skill at removing his own clothes in such a sensual manner. Whenever Hirato has an especially long or trying day, Akari will treat him to a show when they’re together.

And tonight is one such night.

Akari turns the lights low upon entering, hits the music, and pushes Hirato onto the bed. The captain sits up, longing stirring deep within him as he watches Akari start to move, body flowing in time with the bass-filled music. Hirato doesn’t bother to speak; he’s learned that words will only embarrass the doctor and cause him to stop. Besides, Hirato imagines Akari probably gets a fair amount of pleasure from this as well. To be able to drop his pride for a short time and just live is no doubt as enjoyable to him as it is to the captain.

And Hirato is so very glad it is.

He watches, dark eyes hungry, as Akari’s lab coat falls to the ground. The doctor kicks off his shoes and socks beneath it, but Hirato’s eyes are fixed on the way his waist sways with the beat of the music. One hand works at the clasp of his belt while the fingers of the other dexterously undo the knot of his tie. They’re tossed to the floor as well, and his hands return to travel over his body, fingers undoing a few of the topmost buttons on his shirt. His light eyes go from gazing at the floor, strawberry blond hair falling in front of his face, to snapping up to meet Hirato’s. He bites his lip, lowers his body, and crawls forward on hands and knees until he’s directly in front of Hirato.

It takes every ounce of strength in Hirato’s body not to reach out and rip the remaining clothes from the doctor’s flesh, to render him bare and take him on the floor right then and there. As it is, he can’t resist reaching out and stroking a finger along Akari’s bare chest.

Akari stands slowly at that, shaking a finger of his own and turning so that his back is to Hirato. He slides his pants off with finesse, subtler parts of his anatomy still hidden by his shirt. Hirato’s fingers curl in the blanket, fighting the urge to just tear off the damned final piece of clothing hiding his reward.

Akari turns to face the other man but remains just beyond reach. He slips a few more buttons free before turning his back to Hirato once more. Teasingly, he makes to pull his shirt over his head before changing his mind and letting it back down. He glances back over his shoulder, and Hirato cocks a brow in response to the sultry gaze. The captain crooks a finger, mouths “come here,” and this time Akari obeys, sidling over to him and sitting in his lap, legs spread apart.

_Finally_ , Akari undoes the last of the buttons, his eyes on Hirato’s the whole time. As soon as his shirt slides off his shoulders, Hirato draws him into a hard kiss, more grateful than he can describe at the ability to touch Akari again. He feels Akari’s smirk against his lips, and he’ll be damned if the doctor isn’t sexier than ever tonight.

_Worth the wait_ , Hirato decides as Akari nips at the skin along his jaw.  _Definitely worth the wait._


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for a very short "I almost lost you" kiss.

Hirato has brushes with death far too often.

It comes with the job. Akari knows that, and he has been grateful many times that he is a doctor and able to treat his lover’s wounds after battles and secret missions alike. Yet no matter how many times it happens, seeing Hirato carried into the Research Tower on a stretcher with his own blood and that of varugas covering his torn clothes always makes Akari’s heart stop beating for a moment.

Hirato always tries to make up for it. He never _succeeds_ because the doctor’s anger can’t be appeased through sex and flowers, but he does _try_. A bouquet of roses left on Akari’s bed, a new stethoscope found on his desk in the morning (as if medical-themed gifts are all that he likes), a brief kiss on the cheek when they cross paths… It never works.

No, Akari’s anger only subsides when _he_ finally lets it, regardless of anything Hirato does. It’s gone as quickly as it arrived, leaving him breathless with an emptiness in his chest that he would never actually admit to having. Even if he _tries_ to keep ignoring Hirato after that, he never can. When he shows up in Hirato’s room, there’s still a small window of opportunity for him to escape and claim false anger. But when he kisses the captain, Akari knows he has lost. It isn’t a gentle one; it never is. It’s all teeth against soft lips and tongues that clash in both anger and lust.

Akari lets that kiss say everything he can’t: _I was afraid I lost you_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for a very short jealous kiss.

Tsukitachi loves to make Hirato jealous.

He doesn’t make Hirato jealous of _him_ , per se. But it’s fun to mess with Akari when the good doctor is drunk and watch while Hirato slowly gets more and more frustrated. It doesn’t take much either. Once Akari has had enough to drink that his words are slurred and his face flushed, Tsukitachi just has to compliment him on his recent work to make him smile—something which is rare enough that Hirato is protective of it—and position himself _just so_. Akari’s hand inevitably lands on Tsukitachi’s arm or thigh in an attempt to steady himself. Even though _Akari_ means nothing by the contact, _Tsukitachi_ only needs to lift a suggestive brow and wrap an arm over the other man’s shoulders to help him stay balanced.

A single glance at Hirato tells him his plan is working. The other man is busy glaring daggers at him, his eyes darker than usual behind the rims of his glasses and the corners of his mouth pulled down ever so slightly. And when Tsukitachi leans in and whispers something in Akari’s ear, earning a drunken giggle that the doctor _never_ makes when sober, Hirato’s patience reaches its end. He stands and pulls Akari toward him instead, and their lips meet in what could have been an accidental kiss to anyone watching in the bar.

Tsukitachi knows better. That was a mark of ownership, meant to send a message that Akari is _his_ and _only_ his. Tsukitachi knows that the next day, he’ll see the hungover doctor with marks beneath his coat and his hair tousled in the way that only rough sex can make it.

So while Akari smacks Hirato weakly for the stolen kiss, Tsukitachi merely stirs his drink.


End file.
